Tired
by Mossnose
Summary: The first step is admitting you have a problem. But until they get there, having a shapeshifter act as a therapy animal can help them get through the worst days. OC-centric.


A/N: So I was hanging out on Pinterest, and this idea kind of just came to me.

Let me be the first to say I know slightly more than the bare minimum about mental health issues. My knowledge is more geared towards what kind of drugs you can take for them, how people are still working on finding something that will kick in faster, and how patients not following dosing instructions just makes things worse. If you have a mental health issue, please don't hesitate to ask for help. If anyone thinks any less of you for it, they don't know what they're talking about. Some people can get by without drugs, but if a doctor has prescribed you something, please stick to it. Sometimes it gets worse before it gets better, and sometimes it seems like it's not doing anything at all, but stopping your dosage abruptly will make you feel so much worse. Find a good doctor, establish a proper dosage regiment that can be adjusted later on to make you feel better, and, above all else, don't give up.

Disclaimer: The only content I own is my OC, Zoe.

 **Tired**

At first, Zoe Fields had loathed her powers.

Sure, now she thought they were pretty damn cool, but in the heat of the moment, when she realized just what she could do, she cursed the fact that she wasn't normal. People were persecuted and killed for less than being able to change into any animal they touched. So she hid away from the humans, in the depths of the wilderness, disconnecting from her previous state of humanity. If someone got close, she ran, and the cycle continued on and on. She hated the loneliness that resulted from it, but what else could she do? It was all she could think of, but now she was so damn _tired_.

It ended when a SHIELD investigation team finally tracked her down. At first, of course, she wanted nothing to do with the stuffed shirts in suits, but Nick Fury was different. There was something about him that commanded respect. He didn't give her any sort of orders; he just offered her a job. Simple recon, he called it, with additional duties added on based on your performance if you choose to accept them.

She took the offer. She was tired of pretending she wasn't human, and no one else would want a scrawny blonde teen with no prior work experience.

Working with SHIELD, she got a better idea about how her abilities could be used to help others instead of just protecting herself. Anyone could throw a punch, but being able to smell if someone is sick, or sense if they're hiding something? That took talent. And so she learned how to hone her new senses, tracking down targets and using her own judgement to decide how to survey them. Then the Banner case blew open a whole other set of options for her. She underwent special training to become a licensed therapy animal, deciding to use a combination of her animal instincts and human interpretation to make sure no one felt as lonely and sad as Banner was the whole time she watched him, and as she had been when she was on the run herself.

"This is Agent Fields. She'll be providing recon work, and some additional therapy services if anyone needs them. If you need to talk to someone, just talk to the dog. She's no doctor, but at least she's something, and something's better than nothing."

* * *

Tony was complicated; always had been, always would be.

He always hid his true feelings under his devil-may-care attitude, but was perfectly capable of being serious. Anyone else could have been completely fooled. But Zoe could smell the misery and fear on him, and it was always worse when he smelled like alcohol. He'd been cutting back, so that was a good thing, but he wasn't really doing anything about his pain. She'd confirmed it with Pepper and Rhodes discretely; nightmares, anxiety attacks, and spending way too much time in his workshop building things to try and get away from it all.

He wouldn't talk to anybody, and his work was only masking the problem, not solving it. So she decided to do something about it.

If he was spending too much time working, she'd run down to his workshop as a large dog, get JARVIS to let her in, and start stealing his tools to get his attention. Once she got it, she'd herd him to the couch and glare at him until he decided there was no point in arguing with her. He was stubborn, but so was she. And if he started having nightmares, she'd wait for him to wake up (she'd learned pretty quickly that waking him up was a big no-no) and curl up next to him, letting him pet her fur until he fell asleep again. She never told anyone about it to protect his pride, and though he never said anything, she was pretty sure he was grateful.

* * *

Bruce had been the catalyst; the reason she decided on therapy work.

Her first thought upon seeing him, on the run from the American government for something that wasn't even his fault, was that 'this guy needs all the hugs in the world' (Her second thought was 'fuck Ross and the horse he rode in on'). Of course, hugs wouldn't solve all his problems, but at least they'd make him feel better somewhat. Contact from people made him uncomfortable, but as long as she had four feet instead of two, he was fine. It was pretty common to find the two together; Bruce lying down exhausted after Hulking out, Zoe cuddling in his arms or lap in whatever form she thought he'd be most comfortable petting. Everyone knew about that, and most people thought it was cute seeing that Bruce had a fan who could help him out.

What they didn't see was what happened when he was alone.

Bruce was jumpy; he never felt safe, no matter how much reassurance he got. He had nightmares often; some of them even predating his 'big green problem'. Zoe was no fool; she'd read the case file, and she knew about Brian Banner. Bruce had issues long before becoming a fugitive, but he was too terrified of being around people to talk to someone about it, and while everyone else on the team came to him with their problems (despite him not being that kind of doctor), he didn't want to impose on anyone and do the same. The best Zoe could do for him now was let him cry into her fur in the middle of the night. She wished she could do more, but she had the same problem he did.

She just wasn't that kind of doctor.

* * *

Natasha was a mystery wrapped in an enigma hidden in a puzzle. Not bad for a first case.

Everyone knew she had it rough before Clint figuratively dragged her in out of the cold and said 'Can I keep her?'. No one knew the extent, but some bits and pieces slipped through. Most notably, she was Russian, she was older than she looked, and she'd been trained to kill since she was a little girl. At first, Zoe had no idea how to approach her. When Natasha did have a safe place to rest for the night, she chained herself to her bed. It was more like a subconscious reflex than anything. Approaching her in her sleep was a terrible idea, especially since she was a very light sleeper.

Approaching her during the day didn't help either. At night, she was vulnerable and lashed out, but by day she covered up everything perfectly. Zoe could tell something wasn't right; you don't go through whatever she did and come out smelling like roses, after all. But how was she supposed to do anything about it? Her training had never covered this! But she could see how closed off she was, and wanted nothing more than to fix that. After quite a bit of thinking, she put together a plan that just might work.

First, she talked to Clint about it. He and Natasha seemed close already, so having him around would probably make things much easier. Second, she made approaches during the day. Sure, Natasha was covering everything up, and wouldn't dare show weakness out here, but this would at least let her get used to Zoe's presence. She made sure to approach as both human and animal, making an attempt to be a friend instead of just some strange animal that hung around. And associating her with a friendly face like Clint could only help more. All Zoe had to do was wait; patience was the key in approaching abused animals, and abused humans couldn't be that much different.

There were no dramatic breakdowns; Nat had never been that kind of woman. But sometimes, when they were alone together, she'd pet Zoe on the head and mutter something sadly in Russian. She never understood, but she didn't care. If it was helping her get something off her chest and feel better, Zoe was perfectly happy to be her silent sounding board.

* * *

Thor was big and loud, and she wasn't really used to that.

Oh, she was fine with approaching him; he was a hugger, and she loved hugs after being deprived of them for so long. But she couldn't sense his feelings like she could other people. Maybe it was his Asgardian physiology... She wasn't used to being around someone she couldn't read, but since he was usually an open book anyway, that didn't usually matter.

When he came back after dealing with the Tesseract and Loki, he seemed off, but she didn't pry. She was used to him always wanting to talk, so if something was bothering him, he'd say so. But after a few days passed and things didn't change, she sought him out alone, became the largest dog she could (a great dane), and sat there looking at him. He started talking to her animatedly as usual while she listened quietly, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It didn't take nearly as long as she'd expected.

Knowing that no one else was around seemed to make it easier for him to admit what was going on. Asgard had been attacked, and while the invaders had been stopped and properly smote, his mother and brother had been killed. Of course he wouldn't talk about that in public; no one liked Loki aside from him, and they'd celebrate the fact that he was dead. But even though Zoe was still pissed at Loki for New York, she knew how much he meant to Thor and didn't say anything. Quietly, she approached and let him hug her. It was a lot gentler than his usual hugs, and she couldn't find it in her to be happy about that.

She missed getting nearly strangled every time he picked her up; that was just how he was.

* * *

Clint never usually needed therapy.

They were friends, plain and simple. She fetched his arrows when he needed them, he helped her practice other ways she could use her shapeshifting, and they made a lot of bad jokes together. He was her first real friend after she got her powers, and she never really knew how much she needed that. In a way, he helped her just like she tried to help others. He helped her get used to being touched, he taught her sign language so she could make jokes with him behind people's backs, he showed her how to navigate vent systems to get around quickly, and he generally just made her more comfortable around people. The only times he ever needed her were when he started thinking about his life prior to SHIELD, and he rarely did that.

When he got himself compromised, she worried over him just as much as Nat did.

After Nat got him back with a good hit to the head, he seemed quieter than usual. Then again, Coulson was dead; it was a sobering time for her, too. Without a word, she slunk into the recovery ward as a small cat, curled up in a ball next to him, and cried. Almost hesitantly, he reached out and stroked her fur. They had laughed together for so long, and now all they could do was cry together.

...Well, getting a shot at Loki's eye and scratching his stupidly punchable face certainly helped them feel better. Violence was surprisingly good therapy!

* * *

At first, she was nervous to approach Steve.

She'd heard so many stories about him, and really didn't know what to expect. Sure, she knew the legend, but she didn't know anything about the man. What if she said something stupid or offensive? He already didn't like Tony; she didn't want him to not like her, too. So whenever she approached, it was always formally. Business rather than pleasure. Sure, she still couldn't help but crack jokes around him, but never directly at him.

But the more time she spent with him, the more she learned. First of all, he was extremely lonely. It was hard for him to connect with the people of this time, so when he had downtime, he didn't know what to do with it or where to go. Second, his nightmares were awful. She knew he had a perfect memory thanks to the serum, but she hadn't even considered that this would mean his bad memories would keep coming back to him with perfect clarity, haunting him every single night, and even some of the day. Third, he seemed to have no regard for his own safety. He was all too willing to throw himself into harm's way for someone else's sake. That, of course, was never a healthy mindset, even for someone who could usually take it.

So, cautiously, she moved in closer. When he had downtime, she'd take him out on one of her random road trips to see the world, and she'd take pictures while he sketched. When he woke up screaming for Bucky, she'd be right there to calm him down, and if he was too anxious to go back to sleep and headed to the gym to take his frustrations out on some sandbags, she'd be there and offer to spar with him, claiming that she needed the practice (well, she did). When he started showing risky behavior, she'd be sure to try and slap some sense into him, trying to get him to see that a lot of people would be genuinely sad if he died; not Captain America, but Steve Rogers.

It was slow going; the fourth thing she learned was that the real Steve Rogers behind all the stories was a stubborn, scrappy, good-hearted punk who never backed down from a challenge. He didn't think he had a problem, so he wasn't taking any help. Not to mention that 'shell shock', as they called it back then, was something you just dealt with; he wasn't used to having the option to get actual help. Sam certainly helped; Zoe had never been to war before, so his perspective was a great contribution. Steve actually seemed willing to admit he had a problem; that's always the first step. And when Bucky showed up...

Well, that was a whole other situation for her to deal with.

* * *

They were all tired. Zoe knew this. She ran around all night, doing whatever she could to ease everyone's burdens. Having whatever resident AI was available call her if someone was having problems made things a bit easier, but she couldn't be everywhere at once, and she needed sleep too. She had forms that didn't need a lot of sleep that she could use to get around this, but it was only a temporary measure. Sometimes she'd have to abandon Steve to his nightmares if Bruce happened to be having one too. Sometimes she'd have to leave Tony to tinker for a few more hours while she helped Steve try to chase away the bad thoughts. She was doing everything she could, but it still wasn't enough.

She was still tired, but this was a more satisfying kind of tired. This time she was actually making an effort to do something worthwhile. Hopefully, things would get better.

Hopefully, Tony would find a better way to cope, to make himself believe that everyone around him was safe.

Hopefully, Bruce would be able to confide in his teammates the way they confided in him.

Hopefully, Natasha would realize she had a family that wouldn't judge her based on what happened before.

Hopefully, Thor would be able to make peace with his brother's memory.

Hopefully, Clint would be able to keep smiling like he always did.

Hopefully, Steve would find a place for himself in this time, and make new better memories instead of constantly being tormented by the old ones.

Hopefully, they'd all finally be able to sleep peacefully.


End file.
